Scarcely were these words uttered, when a large body of cavalry made its appearance on the summit of the hill. A general officer, surrounded by a brilliant staff, was at their head.
"That is Count Santa-Croce, the Captain-General of Abrantani!" exclaimed Grachia, drawing his sword. "Parley with him were vain—he is devoted to the Grand Duke. My friends, before us lies death or victory!"
The Constitutionalists gave a deafening cheer in answer to the words of their commander.
Then, like an avalanche bursting from its rest on the Alpine height, and rolling with dread and deafening din in its precipitate path, the ducal cavalry thundered down the hill.
But they were well received; and a terrific contest ensued.
The ear was deafened with the report of musketry and the clang of weapons. Bullets whistled through the air; and as the serried ranks on either side poured forth volumes of smoke,—the Constitutionalists with their muskets, and the cavalry with their carbines,—the shouts of the combatants and the groans of the dying announced the desperate nature of the conflict.
But, alas! the Constitutionalists were doomed to experience a sad blow!
General Grachia,—a patriot whose memory demands our admiration and respect,—was slain at the commencement of the battle. He died, fighting gallantly at the head of his troops; and not before the enemy had felt the weight of his valiant arm.
Almost at the same moment the ensign who bore the Constitutional banner was struck to the earth; and an officer of the ducal cavalry seized the standard.
But scarcely had he grasped it, when Richard Markham, who had vainly endeavoured to protect his chief and friend from the weapons of the enemy, spurred his steed with irresistible fury against the officer, hurled him from his seat, and snatched the banner from his grasp.